


Before

by GreyscaleCourtier



Series: DOWN [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Emo Lovecraftian Bullshit, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Prequel, Taxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyscaleCourtier/pseuds/GreyscaleCourtier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is James Egbert.</p><p>You work in CrockerCorp Tower's finance department.</p><p>You're a single father.</p><p>And there's something undeniably weird going on.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>- Prequel/series of drabbles to accompany DOWN -</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dirk worries at his lip piercing, flicking through the file you handed him. “This… what?”

You shrug and slide into the cheap metal folding chair across the table from him. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I said when Roxy showed it to me. Jake triple-checked the departments. There’s no R&D sub that matches the number, and dialing the extension gets a dial tone.”

“Did you ask the guys in tech support? Might just be a typo.”

“It’s not. They looked through their records and couldn’t find anything.”

Dirk frowns at the numbers. You’re tempted to ask what he thinks, but you wait. Dirk is much smarter than he looks – though if you’re honest, the piercings don’t do him any favors – and you know he’ll share his opinion when he’s ready.

Jake appears in the doorway, coffee in hand. “Any ideas?” he asks.

You raise an eyebrow and nod at Dirk, who’s probably running calculations in his head at this point.

Jake understands and takes the seat next to you. “Ah. Well, Roxy thinks it’s some illegal tomfoolery. Personally, I think it’s just a misprint, and _you_ need to lighten up, James.”

“Millions of dollars, Jacob.” You wave at the file in Dirk’s hands. He still hasn’t moved, probably running calculations in his head. “ _Millions_ went into Research and Development, department 612. They can’t pay a misprint. They would’ve fixed this ages ago.”

“How long has this place been around?” Dirk asks suddenly. “If this was… I don’t know, their annual instead of salary, then that’d explain it.”

Jake nods at the file. “That’s _monthly._ Monthly pay.”

“God _damn._ I need to switch departments.”

“It’s not like you’re getting paid anyway,” you can’t resist pointing out.

“This is a two-year internship. BC _has_ to hire me when it’s done. It’ll make ‘em look bad if they don’t.” Dirk tosses the open file on the table. “What’s Roxy saying, again?”

Jake shrugs and takes a sip of coffee. “Money laundering. Tax evasion. You know how she gets, with all her grandiose ideas getting away from her.”

“Huh. I’m gonna talk to her. She in?”

“She left,” you say. “She might still be down in the nursery. Rose never wants to leave. It takes her ages to convince her it’s time to go.”

Dirk smirks and stands up, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I’ve met the kid. She’s probably running the joint. Dave can’t get out of there fast enough.”

“You think he’s being bullied?” You raise an eyebrow.

Dirk makes a noncommittal noise. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow. See if you can climb up the corporate ladder far enough to see what the hell’s going on.”

Jake raises his coffee cup. “Will do. Afternoon, Strider.”

You pick up your own coat. “I’m out for the day too. Are you going to call today or tomorrow?”

“I’ll see what I can do today. Have a good one, James.”

You head down to the nursery to pick up John.

CrockerCorp has company childcare, which was a big reason why you took the job. (It’s the _only_ reason Dirk took the internship here, as far as you can tell.) The nursery is basic, with smiling women mediating toy disputes and feeding infants too small to play with the older kids. It’s loud and colorful and, while a bit small for the number of children running around, fairly ordinary.

John sees you as soon as you approach the check-in desk, and his face lights up. He abandons his toys and runs to the low gate keeping the tide of toddlers back. “Daaaa!”

You lean over the gate and scoop him up. “Hey, John! What have you been up to?”

He babbles something incomprehensible as you check out with the girl at the desk. She grins at you and waves goodbye to John. He waves back, still chattering in his own one-year-old toddler-speak.

Dirk is in the lobby, conversing quietly with Roxy. Tiny Rose is sulking in her mom’s arms, staring back at the nursery with her lower lip jutting in a grade-A pout. Dirk’s little brother is hanging on his hand, doing his best to hide his face in Dirk’s jeans.

John sees them and shrieks excitedly. “Ra!”

Rose’s sulk lightens noticeably and she waves. Dave peeks out from behind Dirk’s leg, frowning in the bright light. Roxy and Dirk notice you approaching and end their hushed conversation. “You’re leaving too, huh?” Roxy snaps her gum and you resist the urge to ask her to stop. (You know from experience that only makes her do it more, and louder, and right in your ear. Jesus Christ.)

“Jake’s staying for another hour or two.” You readjust your grip on John as he does his best to squirm out of your arms, demanding “Down, down, down!” “He said he’s going to make some calls to the other Research and Dev departments. See if they know what’s going on.”

“Hope he’s got something for us tomorrow.” Dirk leans down and picks Dave up, offering him the tiny sunglasses that the nursery doesn’t allow him to wear. “You ready to go home, little man?”

“Yeah,” Dave says in a small voice before burying his head in Dirk’s shoulder. You feel a slight pang of sympathy for Dirk. You know how much potential he probably had, if he’d been able to go to college. Now, stuck taking care of his infant brother, trapped in a nine-to-five unpaid internship that would lead to an only _slightly_ paid nine-to-five dead-end career… You wonder if he resents this place.

But he shushes Dave and promises him ice cream as he carries him out of the lobby, and John waves goodbye in your arms and lisps something after them, and you dismiss the thought as ridiculous.

~

“Nothing.”

You pause, coffee cup halfway to your lips. “Nothing?”

“Not a single blasted department. _Nobody’s_ heard of 612.” Jake rubs at his graying temples.

“Gapaa!” a tiny, irate voice says from under the table. A moment later, a thick mane of black hair pops up. “Bad words!”

“Sorry, Jade, you’re right. I won’t do it again.”

She huffs and crawls back under the table, where Jake had set her up with a coloring book and some crayons.

Roxy appears in the doorway, yawning and stirring her own coffee. “Morning, sluts. What did the other deps say?”

“Bad words!” Jade yells.

Roxy almost chokes on her latte. “Wh… Jake _why_ is your granddaughter under the table?”

Jake shrugs. “There wasn’t anyone at the nursery yet when we got here.”

You frown at him. “What kind of _ungodly_ hour did you show up at?”

“Only an hour or two early. I was going to take her down there when the staff showed up, but she’s so quiet I forget she’s there.” Jake peers under the table. “Jade, are you ready to go downstairs?”

“No,” she says calmly.

“Come on,” Jake cajoles. “John’s down there. You like playing with John, don’t you?”

There’s a beat of silence under the table before you hear Jade heave a long-suffering sigh. “Otay.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. You have fun there every day.”

“No I don’t,” she mumbles, crawling out with a lime green crayon in her fist.

Jake laughs and scoops her up. “I’ll be back in a moment. If Dirk decides to show up, give him a good what-for from me.”

After he and Jade leave, you frown at Roxy. “Dirk’s not here yet?”

She shrugs and leans down to pick up Jade’s abandoned coloring book. “Nah. It’s raining like crazy, though, he’s probably running late.”

Dirk’s _never_ late. You wonder if Dave might be sick – he seemed unusually quiet yesterday. You’d just attributed it to the brightness of the lobby on his albino eyes. “I think I’ll call him and see.”

Roxy shrugs again and picks up the box of crayons. “Okay. I’m gonna color.”

“Roxy, you _do_ have an actual job to do, you know.”

“It ain’t tax season, we have approximately jack-shit on the to-do list. Lighten up.” She sips her coffee and flips the coloring book open, grabs an orange crayon, and starts scribbling.

You flip out your cell phone and select Dirk Strider from your short list of contacts. It rings a good five times before you hear it click.

“James?”

“Dirk, where are you?”

“Yeah, I know, just hang on. I’m downstairs, I’m on my way.” He sounds anxious.

“Is everything—”

“It’s _fine,_ James. Five minutes.” He hangs up.

You stare at your phone for a minute, bewildered, before shrugging it off.

Roxy flips the page and snorts a giggle. “Awww. James, come look at this. Jade drew an octopus.”

You glance down with mild interest. Sure enough, there’s a purple-and-black blob with too many tentacles on the paper. “Well, considering she’s two, that’s not bad.”

“I know, right?” Roxy peers at it. “Ya know, for all Jake keeps insisting she’s an utter genius, I hate to admit it, but he might be right. Girl’s a prodigy. You can practically have a conversation with her.”

“Don’t tell him that, you’ll never hear the end of it.” You finish your coffee and toss the cup in the trash. “How’s Rose?”

Roxy yawns again. “Ugh. She’s gone back to not sleeping through the night. I thought we were past this, but nope. I think the nursery’s letting her take naps again. They better knock that shit off.” She throws back the rest of her latte. “How’s your kid?”

“He’s… fine. He’s good.” You push down a rising confession and instead pull out a chair to finally sit down. “Anyway, Jake says none of the departments have heard of R&D 612. I drew up requisitions for more information, we should send them upstairs as soon as we can.”

Roxy shrugs and goes back to coloring. “We’ll have Dirk do it when he gets here. It’s what interns are for.”

“He said he was downstairs when I called.” You glance at the doorway. “I wonder what’s taking him so long.”

“Dave doesn’t like the nursery.” Roxy switches her orange crayon for a pink one. “’S probably giving him separation anxiety.”

You hum in agreement and reach for the coloring book. “Give me one of those.”

Roxy snickers and passes you a blue crayon.

Dirk finally shoves the door open and slams it behind him with some force. He pauses at the sight of you coloring with Roxy.

“…Working hard?”

“You know it!” Roxy says cheerfully, drawing a pair of pointy sunglasses on the sun. “Look, I drew you.”

“Jake says we got nothing,” you tell him without looking up from the ocean you’re filling in. “I wrote requisitions for more information. We’re pretending it’s tax related.” You point with your crayon at the stack of papers in your office outbox. “Take those upstairs, would you?”

Dirk sighs. “I didn’t even sit _down,_ ” he groans, but grabs the stack of papers anyway. “Have some more coffee when I get back. _Please._ ”

Roxy waves with her crayon. “Shoo.”

~

When Dirk returns, Jake has joined your coloring circle. He’s brought back the lime green crayon Jade had in her tiny fist and is doing some delicate shading on a tree when Dirk re-enters with a manila envelope.

“Am I actually the only person here who does any work?” he grumbles, tossing the envelope on the table with a slap. “And I don’t even get paid. Y’all are useless.”

Jake hums. “Strider, I’ve done my time in the field. I deserve to get paid for nothing, you young palooka.”

“Palooka?” Dirk side-eyes you. You shrug and draw a blue rabbit in the corner of the page. John is on a rabbit kick recently, everything is “Bunny! Bunny!”

“So what’s in the box?” Roxy picks up the envelope and shakes it by her ear like a Christmas present.

“No idea. Head of Finance gave it to me after I handed him the requisition. Said to give it to whoever’s in charge of this department.” Dirk grabs the (full, thanks solely to you) coffee carafe like it’s made of diamond. “By the way, who exactly _is_ in charge of this department?”

You, Roxy, and Jake all exchange confused glances. “I… I’m not actually sure.” You raise an eyebrow at Jake. “Harley, probably.”

Jake scoffs and twists his crayon in a nearby pencil sharpener. “Oh no you don’t. I’m not being responsible for this blasted train wreck. Egbert’s in charge.”

“I vote Jake’s in charge.” Roxy raises her hand.

You raise yours.

Dirk raises the coffee pot.

Jake sighs and snatches the envelope from Roxy. “Fine. Scapegoat me. When corporate flays me alive and puts my head on a pike on the roof, it’ll be on your heads.”

“Technically it’ll be yours,” Dirk mumbles into his coffee cup.

Jake doesn’t hear – or pretends not to – and slides a document out of the envelope. While he skims it, you and Roxy play tic-tac-toe on one of the pages. It’s a draw every time.

Dirk drains his coffee cup and pours a second.

“James,” Jake says, very quietly, even though it’s so silent in your office that everyone can hear him. “Look at this.”

You lean over and take the offered document.

 

 

**\-- INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMORANDUM --**

 

**FINANCE DEPARTMENT 341**

**CROCKERCORP INDUSTRIES**

**T.W.I.M.C.**

**HEAD OF FINANCE**

**CROCKERCORP INDUSTRIES**

**CC: DU. AM.**

**We regret the mixup stated in your requisition. There is no such department under CrockerCorp, and the documents in question may have been misprinted. We apologize for the confusion and will rectify the documents in question immediately. Thank you for bringing this to our attention.**

**-          D.A.**

 

Jake raises his eyebrows when you look up. “They’re lying,” he says flatly.

Roxy snatches the memo out of your hands and scans it.

Dirk comes up behind her and reads over her shoulder, eyes flicking from line to line behind his shades. He starts chewing at his lip piercing again.

“They might not be,” you feel you have to argue, but you’re uncertain. _Millions of dollars, Jacob_ , you hear your own words from yesterday. _They can’t pay a misprint._

“We have to figure this out.” Dirk grabs the sheet from Roxy and flips it over to see if there’s anything on the other side. “For actual, legitimate tax reasons if nothing else. Can we show them the financial records and demand an explanation?”

Roxy makes a grab for the memo, but Dirk flicks it out of her reach. “I’m telling you, it’s tax evasion.” She leans back in her chair with an I-told-you-so expression. “If we start pushing for info, we’re gonna get _marginalized._ I don’t wanna end up in a trunk on my way to a Cuban pot farm just because our _intern_ wanted to do our taxes all _properly_ and shit.”

You trade a look with Jake and shrug. “It might still be a big misunderstanding,” you point out reasonably.

“That’s getting less likely.” Jake sighs and tosses his crayon back to the table. “I’ll go up there this evening and try to catch Ampora in his office before he leaves.”

You suppress a shudder. The head of Finances was unpleasant to be around in any circumstance. He had a way of looking at you like everything you said was an utter waste of time, even if you were delivering information he’d told you to get.

“Better you than me,” Roxy says, echoing your thoughts. “Hey, if he murders you, I’ll take care of Jade for you.”

“Good night, no. I’m not leaving my granddaughter with you. She goes to James.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Y… No, no, this is the bit where you say you’d gladly leave John to me in return.”

“Oh _God,_ no. No, John would go to Dirk.”

Dirk smirks into his coffee cup before glancing up to see all three of you staring at him expectantly. “What? Ain’t none of y’all freaks getting my brother, what’s _wrong_ with you people?”

~

The next day, Jake is uncharacteristically quiet. Jade is once again coloring by herself under the breakroom table.

Roxy shoots you a confused glance when she comes in, but you shrug; you can’t imagine he forgot to drop his granddaughter off in the nursery again.

After an hour of all four of you working in silence, an email pops up in your inbox. From Jake.

 

* * *

 

**Ampora told me to stop asking questions.**

-          **J. Harley**

* * *

 

 

You can’t help glancing over at Jake’s desk, but he’s stoic as ever, peering at his screen with Jakelike intensity. You tap out a reply.

 

* * *

 

**In a suspicious way?**

-          **J. Egbert**

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

 

**He threatened Jade.**

-          **J. Harley**

* * *

 

 

A cold chill runs down your spine. _He wouldn’t_ is your initial reaction. Then you take stock of what you know about Ampora, and he would.

 

* * *

 

**Outright?**

-          **J. Egbert**

* * *

 

* * *

 

**Might as well have. No mistaking him.**

-          **J. Harley**

* * *

 

 

You hear Jade chattering to herself as she plays in the other room. Who would threaten a two-year-old?

A new email pops up.

 

* * *

 

**Either stop gossiping or let me in on the dirt.**

-          **D. Strider**

* * *

 

 

You cast a dirty look at Dirk’s desk, but he’s examining a folder very intently and won’t meet your gaze.

 

* * *

 

**Ampora told Jake to stop asking questions. He threatened Jade.**

-          **J. Egbert**

* * *

 

* * *

 

**WHY IS EVERYONE TALKING TO EACH OTHER BUT NOT ME**

-          **R. Lalonde**

* * *

 

You sigh audibly. No one in the room looks at you.

* * *

 

**Can we talk about this like normal humans? With words and such?**

-          **J. Egbert**

* * *

 

* * *

 

**we COULD do that but why the hell WLOULD we do that when we could instead be SENDING SECRET MESSAGES VIA THE EMAILWEBS**

-          **R. Lalonde**

* * *

 

 

“Roxy, I am going to put an administrator password on your _everything_ if you can’t learn to type like a human being,” Jake finally says from his desk.

She smirks, her pink lipstick smudged from where her tongue pokes out the corner of her mouth. She does that when she types, for some reason.

 

* * *

 

**The point is, there is more to this invisible department than meets the eye. I would like to keep investigating, but not if my granddaughter will be in danger. I don’t even want to leave her in the nursery anymore.**

-          **J. Harley**

* * *

 

* * *

 

**No one is going to hurt Jade. We’ll help.**

-          **D. Strider**

* * *

 

 

~

 

“So Dirk and I hooked up over the weekend,” Roxy says, plowing right over Dirk’s choked noise of _you-could-have-worded-that-better_ protest, “and put together _this._ ” She slaps a paper CD case on the table with a plasticky thwack. “Since the tower’s network has top-of-the-line antivirus, we’ll have to introduce it from inside the network itself. Then we can sit back while it follows the money like a sniffer dog sniffin’ out heroin. I’m talking about the good shit, like all the rockstars were doing in the eighties. Gonna bust down their doors yelling ‘FREEZE MOTHERFUCKERS’ like a bad Tarantino movie. Steal the _fuck_ out of all that sweet, sweet heroin.”

“Tarantino movies aside,” Dirk interrupts, “it’s just a mild virus to intercept emails. Once it finds something about department 612, it starts copying all correspondence between the sender and recipient.” He swipes the CD up and tosses it at you. “Egbert’s taking responsibility for it.”

You barely catch it and splutter at him. “I… wh… Dirk, why am I in charge of this?”

“Who the hell is gonna think it was you?” Dirk counters. “If they do find the virus, which they won’t by the way, nobody’s going to believe a mild-mannered businessman-slash-single-dad made it.”

You frown at him but toss the CD on your desk. You’ll do it later.

~

“Aaaaand we have a winner!” announces Roxy next week. “Anyone wanna hazard a guess as to who first mentioned Department 612?”

“Ampora?” Jake says.

“Corrrrrrect! Give the old fart a gold star.”

“I’m forty-six, Roxy.”

“You got gray hair, you’re old.”

“Gray _ing,_ thank you very…”

“What did Ampora say?” you cut in.

Roxy taps out something on her keyboard as Dirk leans over her shoulder to look. “He’s talking with… holy shit, he’s talking to Crocker.”

“The Crocker?” You frown. “As in our company CEO? The face of the company, multibillionaire Helen Ingrid Crocker? _The_ Betty Crocker?”

“One and the same.”

Dirk reaches over Roxy to type something else and begins reading out loud. “‘Department 612 may need funding cuts. Expense reports were mistakenly sent to Tower General Finance last week and they sent me a requisition for information. Rest assured, such a mistake will not be made again, but the program may need to lay low or at least go paperless until the mistake is rectified. Employees are asking questions.’” He raises an eyebrow. “Holy shit, that’s sketchy as fuck.”

“So 612 is an embezzlement department,” Jake says, half to himself. “Probably pretending to be a company branch in South America…”

“Did Crocker say anything back?” you ask.

“Mmm, not yet.” Roxy chews a pen thoughtfully. “Dirk, is the virus saving copies of this stuff?”

“Yeah. Should we take this to the IRS?”

“No!” Jake says too loudly. “No, we’re… not yet. Not just yet. We need more information.”

You know he’s thinking about Jade.

“We’ll keep track of this,” you promise, as much to yourself as to Jake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes you up screaming one night.

Ampora, 

Do not make such a careless mistake again. Aquarius 3 is still in the program. If funding is to decrease, he will be the first spare part to go. Stop disappointing this company. I have innumerable things to do besides babysit you.

I don’t care how you silence the employees. Fire them if you want to. The program’s funding will continue as scheduled.

-          H.I.C.

* * *

   Understood, but the employees in question are all linked to program Units. If they leave the company, the Units go with them. For the time being, however, they have stopped asking questions.

-          D. Ampora

* * *

   Guardians haven’t hindered progress before. The Gemini units prove such. Which units are they linked to? We may be able to cut the ties with ease.

-          H.I.C.

* * *

 

   Aries, Taurus, Virgo, and Pisces. They run department 413.

Attached:  ~ath.file.Tower_Personnel-%-financial-%-d413

-          D. Ampora

* * *

 

   That’s horribly inconvenient. Keep an eye on them.

   Speaking of, have you looked over the latest progress reports from Site Leviathan? Excavation has nearly halted. I want an explanation, Ampora.

-          H.I.C.

* * *

 

   Site Leviathan is a bit out of my jurisdiction, but I called around this morning and it seems Leviathan is feeling resistant. It may be because excavation efforts are disturbing its feeding patterns, but “communications” are down as usual. Apparently they’ve been working up the courage to request that you fly out and attempt to handle it in person.

   Site Skaia, on the other hand, is proceeding apace and should be ready within the next quarter. We should be able to empty the nursery soon. I’ve been meaning to ask, how should we spin that to the press? We’ll have some angry – and nosy – employees when that happens.

-          D. Ampora

* * *

 

   Ampora, use basic common sense when speaking to me or I will send you to Site Leviathan indefinitely. DO NOT discuss Beta Nursery in writing anywhere. We can talk about that in person.

   As for Site Skaia, have they sent progress reports? Photographs? Have they made changes to the blueprints I made? I need to know these things, Ampora, and if they begin to fall through the cracks, you will be the one to take the punishment. Perhaps you need a courtesy trip to the Helm to be reminded of what embarrassing me entails.

-          H.I.C.

* * *

 

   There’s no need for that, I hope. I apologize and will wipe my hard drive at earliest opportunity. Attached are progress reports from Site Skaia, with photographs.

Attached: ~ath.file/zip.Skaia-cos-GHB

-          D. Ampora

* * *

 

   I understand your complex relationship with the Ψ bloodline, but the more I consider it, a trip to the Helm would do you good. Make plans to fly out within the month. Leave the nursery in the Handmaid’s hands. She sends better progress reports and takes better care of the units.

   Speaking of the units, I heard through certain channels that Gemini 3 sustained some injuries in the nursery last week. Gemini 3 is the biggest asset we have. Explain why it has taken me so long to hear about this.

   If you disappoint me again, I will cull Aquarius 3 from the program and have it replaced. You are on the thinnest of ice.

-          H.I.C.

* * *

 

   Gemini 3’s injuries were negligible at worst and I recommended to the Handmaid that he be removed from the nursery much earlier because he is simply too old and too strong to be kept in close proximity to the other children, I told her this SEVERAL times and was ignored each time, even though she was well and fully aware of Gemini’s predecessors and how THAT was the mistake that led to both failures. I was neither on the premises when Gemini 3 sustained said injuries nor was I informed until after the fact, at which point I checked Gemini over in person and deemed his injuries negligible. Also injured was Aries, whose legal guardian was very concerned for his well-being. He threatened to remove Aries from Beta Nursery. If anything deserves your attention, it should be that detail.

-          D. Ampora

* * *

 

 

As you click carefully through the emails, a sick curl of dread forms somewhere in your chest. It’s in code, you know, but there’s something about the callously sinister way they’re talking… You don’t think this has to do with taxes anymore.

Dirk is reading over your shoulder, and by the time you’ve scrolled down to the most recent ones, he’s gone very still beside you.

“That’s it for the past couple days,” Roxy says, breaking the silence. “Can’t retrieve anything from before that. Now, call me crazy, but I think this might be past the IRS’s jurisdiction… Dirk, are you—”

“Aries.” He’s quiet. He’s panicking. “Aries is… I think it’s Dave.”

You sigh. You know Dirk is neurotic at the best of times, and when his brother is involved he just gets worse. “Dirk, there’s practically _no_ chance—”

“ _Did you see_ how many times they said the word ‘nursery’ in there?” Dirk says loud enough to make Jake put his head through the door in concern. “It’s… James, what the _fuck_ are they doing?”

You try to answer, but he cuts you off. “Remember… okay, do you remember a week or so ago when I was late coming in, right? I was down in the nursery. Dave came home with bruises. And some… kind of burn, I think, I thought it was just something he caught from another kid, I was down there chewing out the staff for not keeping an eye on him.”

“Dirk, that’s hardly—”

“I threatened to pull him out!”

“They probably get threats like that every damn day,” Roxy points out reasonably. “Dirk, calm down. Let’s start at the beginning of the emails. We can re-code the data worm to look through all tower data for this stuff, now that we know what to look for.”

Dirk is chewing at his lip piercing until you think it might bleed, but he exhales sharply and lets go of where he’d been clutching the edge of your desk. “Right. Okay. Site Leviathan. Let’s start there.”

Roxy nods encouragingly. “And Skaia. We can put in zodiac names for good measure. C’mon, we can do this before we go home today.”

You wonder if you should tell them.

You think of John’s mobile, turning merrily away without anything touching it.

Of when he cried for you in the middle of the night claiming there was a monster at his window, and how it was wide open with curtains blowing in a breeze you couldn’t feel.

Of all the times he’s lain perfectly calm and quiet, staring intently at an empty corner.

Of the time you woke up to hear him mumbling quietly to himself over the baby monitor, and you could have sworn it was a _language,_ one that sent chills down your spine and made you equally afraid to go back to sleep and afraid to go check in on him.

Instead, you say, “Let me know when you have something new.”

~

John wakes you up screaming.

It’s maybe three seconds from the time you wake up, to when you’re in his room switching on the light, but your son screams like he’s dying and your heart is in your throat—

You see blood in his crib and try not to panic, try to hush him as you lift him out of bloodstained blankets. His screaming turns into gasping, hiccupping sobs as he recognizes you and clings to your neck, even as you try to gently pry him away.

When you finally identify the source of the blood – it looks like a nosebleed – you do your best to console John while you fumble through your contacts list. It’s late, you know, but you remember Roxy mentioning how her daughter got nosebleeds some time ago. You dial her number and hope she’s not pissed off at how late it is.

She picks up at the first ring. “James?” Her voice comes through loud and strained. “Jesus Christ. I was just about to call you.”

“Roxy?”

“Listen, James—no, shhhh, Rose, it’s okay—okay, let me guess, from the crying in the background I assume your kid just woke up covered in blood, right?”

You freeze.

“Can you bring him over here to my place? Dirk’s already here. Jake’s on his way.”

“I…”

“Can you do it or no?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

~

John hates his car seat, and persuading him to release his death grip on your neck takes longer than you thought it would. By the time you get to Roxy’s tiny apartment complex, it’s almost three in the morning.

Jake lets you in, grim-faced and sleep-deprived. “Kitchen,” he says, nodding back to the house.

You carry John, who seems to have worn himself out with crying and is fussing fretfully in your arms. In the tiny kitchen, Roxy has a child on each hip as she leans over Dirk’s shoulder, who sits at the table typing at a bulky laptop. They both look up when you enter.

“Tower communications blew up an hour ago,” Dirk says in lieu of hello. “Specifically between Ampora and… someone from the nursery, we can’t figure out who. The signature just says ‘Beta Handmaid.’”

“The nursery?” you repeat, chills crawling down your spine. “What are they saying?”

“Some kind of _incident,”_ Dirk spits out. In Roxy’s arms, Dave starts to sniffle. Dirk turns and takes him off Roxy’s hip to hush him. “Shh, hey, c’mere little man. It’s okay.”

“What sort of incident?” you press. John buries his face in your shoulder and whines. “What the hell kind of _incident_ causes four toddlers to wake up bleeding all over the damn city?”

“It’s not just these four,” Roxy interrupts, the first time she’s spoken since you came in. “It’s all of them. Every single kid in the entire fucking nursery.”

“So…” Jake finally joins the crowded kitchen, a sleeping Jade in his arms. “Maybe a virus? It’s not unheard of, in large groups of children.”

“If they all got sick within the same _month,_ maybe. Not in the same _minute.”_ Roxy shifts Rose to her other hip. Rose doesn’t seem fazed by any of this, calmly tugging at her mom’s earrings. If it weren’t for the red drips on her pajamas, you would doubt she’d been ill at all.

“What does Ampora have to do with the nursery?” you ask Dirk, who’s settled Dave in his lap as he clicks through emails.

“No idea yet, but I’m starting to think he’s in charge of more than just the Finance department.” Dirk chews his lip piercing. “They’re talking about… Ampora flying out somewhere tonight, getting the CEO involved… uh, there’s something about ‘bringing communications back online,’ which Crocker needs to do in person, apparently… Some piece of equipment burned out?” He frowns and scrolls up a few lines. “I _think_ it’s equipment… What the hell is with all this zodiac bullfuckery anyway?”

“Move.” Roxy elbows Dirk in the ribs. “Let me see. Hold Rose for a second.”

“Here. I’ll take her.” You scoop up Rose and try to read over Roxy’s shoulder. “Gemini Three?”

She nods and taps a nail on the screen. “‘Gemini Three suffered severe burnout, unfortunately the effects reached all the way to… Site Leviathan, disturbing the Source there. It reacted defensively and all units suffered backlash.’” She looks up in bewilderment. “Crocker said something about Site Leviathan, right? Something about excavation?”

“Check the archive files.” Dirk leans in to look at the screen, too. “Her emails should be in one of those.”

“Mmmyep, and there’s mention of Gemini Three…” Roxy’s voice trails off. “Gemini Three is a person?”

In your arms, Rose reaches over to pat John’s cheek and babble questioningly at him. John twists away and burrows deeper into your shoulder.

“I think,” Jake says, quiet and strained, “that we all need to call in sick tomorrow.”

Dirk sighs and rubs his eyes beneath his shades. “I’ll start some coffee.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The private journals of Helena Ingrid Crocker (H.I.C.), beginning in November of 1988.

All four kids are finally sound asleep in Roxy’s small living room. You keep your voice down even as it shakes with anger.

“They’re running experiments.”

Roxy nods, white-faced. “On the babies.”

“On _our_ babies,” Dirk corrects her, quiet and furious.

“They can’t go back there.” You’re already thinking, half-formed plans of taking John and just leaving, going somewhere far away and never coming back swirling in your mind. You can say goodbye to your mother. Visit her nursing home and let John say goodbye to his Nanna before you disappear.

“We have to show this to somebody,” Jake says, almost too loud. “She can’t get away with this. God only knows how many children she’s hurt already.”

“Who the hell do we take this to?” Roxy waves a hand at the laptop screen, now showing an unnervingly small MRI scan, shot through with a glowing web of whiteness that doesn’t belong in any brain. “Who would believe us?”

“The… I don’t know!” Jake runs a hand through his graying hair. “The government. Anyone.”

“If anything, they’d be thrilled.” Dirk’s voice is dark and seething. “We’d be dropping the perfect weapon in their hands.”

“But we know too much to stay here.” Roxy shuts the laptop with a clack. “Y’know what, I’m gonna say it. I don’t care about the other kids. It looks like most of them _live_ in the nursery anyway. No parents, no guardians, nothing.”

“So we leave them to die?” Jake snaps.

“Pretty much. As long as I get Rose out of there without attracting suspicion, I don’t care what happens to the rest.”

“We can’t just disappear,” you point out pragmatically. “CrockerCorp can track us down if we’re not careful. We need to plan. We need to cover our tracks.”

Someone whimpers in the next room. You sigh internally and go look in the living room to find Dave sitting up, lip quivering. Ever the parent, you hold your hands out, and when he reaches up you scoop him into your arms and bring him back into the kitchen.

Dirk looks up at you, burning with intensity you should know to expect from him by now that still takes you by surprise. “We know what we’re going to do.”

You hand his brother over and sit down heavily.

“Tell me.”

 

~~~~~~

 

**November, 1988**

   The Zodiac Project is ready. The pieces are in play. The first of the pawns are inching their fragile paths across the chessboard of my plan. The Source is uneasy with so many beings siphoning away its energy, but It is easy to soothe, and equally easy to overrule. Everything is in motion. Ψ is reluctant. He says we are moving too quickly; but he is conspicuously quiet about his own newfound abilities. Hypocrite. I can make a man into a god, but he still manages to pitch a fit like a child when I offer the same to his sons. Ampora is infinitely more quiescent with his Cronus. Though Cronus shows only marginal promise. I haven’t told him that, of course. We shall see. The wide new expanse of godhood stretches out before us all, and I will not let it go to waste.

   The Carapacian project is scrapped, but I am going to have them construct the Black King prototype in order to protect DERSE-1. It will take at least ten years, likely more. It is worth the wait.

 

**February, 1995**

   The Zodiac Project is in ashes.

   Literally. Gemini II destroyed the entire facility. He was the only survivor – if you could call it surviving. Fortunately for him, he is in a coma, likely brain-dead, and cannot be punished. Ψ broke when he heard. I had some brief concerns for his sanity, and had him removed to the Helm prematurely. The wires had to be rushed to completion, but if any errors occur because of that, they will not be fatal. Ψ did have one more child, a newborn from a one-night stand who G.H.B “persuaded” to sign over her rights. I left it in Ampora’s care, but he’s given me an idea.

   Before the Zodiac Project went up in flames, we gleaned mountains of data from the units. For all intents and purposes, we could treat the whole thing as… shall we say, a trial run. The Alpha version of bugged software. We take the program – we troubleshoot what went wrong – we start again with a new set.

   One issue the handlers had reported: the units’ brains had already developed to the point that even toxic-threshold psionic exposure had only a nominal effect on them. Their neuroplasticity was too far gone to allow their neurons to rewire. And so, when we begin again, we take younger subjects. Handler reports also indicate that all subjects performed better on psionic tests after a diet rich in copper, perhaps with other trace elements as well, so we can even plan the new set’s meals.

   Ψ’s newborn will suffice to start with. But we need to plan, first – work through the logistics – buy a new facility – hush anyone who seems suspicious – hire new faculty and train them. I will not have another disaster like this one.

   No. This was no disaster. It is only a disaster if we have learned nothing from it.

 

**October, 1999**

   The Beta units have been collected.

   Aries II is the young brother of a Tower employee. Preliminary exposures have been performed on all units, and Aries, while receptive, seems particularly prone to burnout. He dislikes the Beta Nursery and the Handmaid, but I am reluctant to lobotomize him. Infant brain tissue is fragile enough without taking an icepick to it – besides, Aries lives outside the Nursery with a caregiver who would notice such a change immediately. But I will keep him in spite of the inconvenience; he is developing precognition, and I must have this treasure.

   Taurus II is another outside unit, taken care of by a single father. He seems oblivious to his situation, but is otherwise quite intelligent. We suspect some form of telekinesis – perhaps air or gravity manipulation. Too early to tell, the Handmaid tells me. His testing is the most rigorous, save for Captor’s.

   Gemini III is delivering on all his predecessors’ promises, and then some. He has grown up with such constant exposure that he is far and away our best unit. Electrokinetic – telekinetic – brilliant to the brink of prodigy and an affinity with technology that comes so naturally it unsettles me. He will be the jewel in my crown. My lethal little honeybee.

   Cancer II was found outside a fire station by, through some absurd stroke of fortune, none other than the Handmaid herself while walking to work. She took him before the firefighters even knew he was there. His testing suggests telepathy, but the manner is unclear – he does not seem to hear direct thoughts. He lives in a constant state of agitation and fearful anger, even when nothing but positive, calming thoughts are directed at him. Perhaps he hears more deeply than we thought. Perhaps he cannot be deceived. If so, he is of immeasurable value.

   Leo II has been acquired under the table from a homeless teenaged mother. She was born deaf, but the Handmaid has been teaching her sign language to help communicate. Her abilities are yet unknown, but it is probably mental – she shows no external powers.

   Virgo II is an outside unit, the granddaughter of a Tower worker. Even before we began to test her, we could see she is a prodigy. She is two years old and she knows; God help us, she knows what we are doing to her. She screams at the Handmaid, she refuses to be tested, and she exercises her increasingly-powerful telekinesis at every opportunity, and throws the sharpest things she can find when the Handmaid comes to take her for exposure. She recognizes the expressed powers of those around her as abnormal and interesting. We need to remove her from her guardian soon, before the day she tells him what we do. But I believe we are safe from her, for now. I am eager to see how this little Filipino flower blossoms in our care.

   Libra II is, by a twist of fate, the daughter of Libra I, who came into the program destitute after surrendering her accidental pregnancy to the state. G.H.B. found her in the foster care system and, likely thinking it a poetic justice, had her smoothly and gracefully kidnapped. Libra is quite obviously a telepath, but her limited vocabulary expresses it in vague, analogic ways. She compares the thoughts she hears to smells and colors. There is a short video in her personal file depicting her trying to explain it; it is absolutely _fascinating._

   Scorpio II is a street rescue we found at age 3. She is confrontational and belligerent, with all the bravado and spit I’ve come to expect from street brats. She is a bellicose little bitch, and I could not be more delighted with her. She despises adults, mocks her superiors and bullies the other units. She is a manipulative little terror (though I suspect not entirely conscienceless), and it seems that alone is her power. Perhaps she is a reverse telepath? Time will tell.

   Sagittarius II is rather old for the program, but his reaction to the exposure is intriguing to say the least; it manifests almost entirely through physical change. His temperament is equally intriguing. He clearly dislikes the other units and occasionally behaves aggressively towards them (obvious anger control issues, which I will have the Handmaid work on alone), but yet he is unfailingly obedient and respectful to adult faculty. Perhaps I should encourage autism more often in any future units. It seems a useful trait, if Sagittarius is anything to go by.

   Capricorn II is the wild card. He reacted strangely during the initial exposure procedure – while all the other units showed distress and pain, Capricorn laughed wildly through the entirety. It unsettled the Handmaid; and if it disturbs her of all people, it disturbs me too. Capricorn is astonishingly agile and strong, and even the friendliest units avoid him. According to the Nursery, he terrorizes them (with the exceptions of Cancer, whom he seems to like, and Scorpio, whom he seems to fear). Capricorn may yet be a valuable warrior, but if he cannot learn to control himself, then other avenues of restraining him must be explored.

   Aquarius III is Ampora’s younger son. He was exposed from a young age, and by now is quite proficient with the same type of “white magic” his brother displayed. We reused Cronus’s old test results to develop an accessory item for Eridan – we facetiously call it a magic wand, but in reality, any object capable of conducting electricity would work. Aquarius III is going to be a sight to behold when he grows up. Ampora does not seem to care.

   Pisces II is another employee’s daughter, and the Source apparently considers her to be Its “heiress.” What It means by that I don’t know; It can’t seem to put it in any other words. Pisces is showing odd growths similar to the aquatic respiration system noted in both Aquariuses and Pisces I _(see Alpha File: “Meenah”)_. Pisces II is quiet and calculating, taking little note of the other units and instead observing how the Nursery works. Occasionally she shows strange behavior indicative of communing with the Source _(see: “Grimdark”)_ , but the rest of her time in the Nursery is spent playing quietly with Taurus and Aries, and the only person in the Nursery she has been seen speaking to is Virgo.

   I have toured Beta Nursery myself many times, meeting all the children and overseeing the research. When G.H.B. finds a suitable location, the Nursery will be emptied. We will need to orchestrate it very carefully, but their caretakers will be fairly compensated for their children’s tragic kidnappings, and should pose few problems.

   That being said. I am enamoured with my children. They are strange and wild and sharp of mind. They are so fierce and feral and beautiful, it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up just to _be_ in the Nursery, in the presence of such raw, untamed power. They take my breath away. They will be the throne from which I rule. My lovely little playthings with teeth so sharp they cut off tongues. Gl’bgolyb and all Its trappings will be my cloak, and with it I will cover the world.

   The pieces are back in play. The Second Zodiac Project has begun.

 

**June, 2001**

   Taurus, Aries, Virgo and Pisces are gone.

   Their guardians, through some oversight, turned out to all have worked in the same department in the Tower. They caught on to the Second Zodiac Project, and used a data worm to copy confidential information, including my private emails to Ampora, lab results, Nursery security footage, and testing transcripts. Rather than take the information to authorities, it seems they **TOOK MY CHILDREN AND RAN**

**I AM ENRAGED**

**THEY ARE MINE**

**THEY ARE MINE THEY ARE MINE THEY ARE MINE THEY ARE MINE THEY ARE MINE THEY ARE MINE THEY ARE MINE THEY ARE MINE**

**HOW DARE THEY**

**HOW FAR DO THEY THINK THEY CAN RUN**

**I WILL HAVE MY HORRORTERROR DEVOUR THE WORLD FOR THEM**

**I WILL HAVE MY CHILDREN BACK**

**THEY CANNOT RUN FROM ME**

**THEY CANNOT HIDE**

 

**May, 2004**

   Leo died quite unexpectedly. It seems she suffered septic shock from an untreated bite wound caused by one of the other units, the Handmaid does not know which. I don’t care enough to have her find out. Meulin is dead. I need a new Leo. That’s all that matters.

   I replaced a few of the missing units over the past few years. I acquired a new Aries with beautifully efficient telekinesis. It is a sour prize in place of my last Aries, but I can no longer afford to be picky. Taurus is a weak, stumbling child who expresses very vague mental abilities. Continued exposure may make them clearer, but I have doubts. Virgo is a calm, intelligent unit with healing abilities that the researchers have never seen before, but oh, I’ll miss the little Filipino prodigy.

   A Pisces unit escapes me. Any I find and bring to the Source, It rejects. It misses the “heiress.” I mentioned this to Ampora, who was unsettlingly quick to point out that I could make my own true heiress. Much as I would like to have him deposed for his implied presumption to “help,” he has a point. Perhaps if I gave the Source a shiny new plaything, it would cease Its pining. Besides, I have always wondered if exposing a child in utero would cause it to be born miles ahead of its peers in terms of psionic development. Time for an experiment, I suppose.

 

**January, 2005**

   The Source loves Its new heiress. She isn’t even born yet, but she kicks in delight when It speaks to her. She speaks back with mental babbling and gibberish. Ultrasounds have confirmed what I already know – she has sprouted gills and the very smallest nubs of what will be her horns. I do wonder, since she is my genetic clone, would my horns be identical to hers? Would they grow the same way?

   The Leo unit has been replaced. It was difficult. Too much time could not pass – the new unit would be years behind all of their peers. So to find a suitable Leo, we gathered as many children as we could obtain and blasted each of them with a psionic wave strong enough to make Gemini III scream from a continent away. If the unit died, it wouldn’t have been worth our time to train anyway. But if it survived the initial pulse, then it could handle the accelerated learning pace needed to catch up to the rest of the Zodiac units.

   One survived. Its name is Nepeta, and it is seven months old. It runs like a cat and has a mouth filled with teeth. It is every bit a wild animal. I am satisfied with it.

   No word yet on the missing units. We are searching.

 

**August, 2010**

   The Harleys are not in the Philippines. It was a long shot, anyway. The old man never could stay with his roots. He will be somewhere obscure and exotic. Tibet, rural Russia, a favela in Brazil, the jungles of Borneo. They will not be found.

   But the Egberts were not quite so careful.

   Maple Valley. A quiet suburb in Washington. When first I was told, oh, my heart leapt. I would trade useless Nitram for my little sprite in an instant. And when I sent Ampora to see, he took photographs of my missing child, and I am unashamed of my ecstasy. He is alive, my little Taurus; all white skin that has forgotten its gray, and soft hair that has never known horns.

   But not yet – we have to watch. Wait. Listen to see if they call the others. They must.

 

**April, 2011**

   Skaia is in shambles.

   I am furious.

   Jack Noir sent me a hasty report. It details a number of failings on the staff’s part, but more worrying are the injuries the units sustained. With the struggle and panic that came after the four Beta children went missing, and Meulin’s untimely death, I cannot afford any casualties. Not a single one. Not this late in my game. I am furious. _I am furious._

   G.H.B. recently acquired a medical research lab called Prospit. It will have to be repurposed to house the units until I have found something more suitable.

   James Egbert has not contacted any of the other guardians. We are waiting.

   Gl’bgolyb talks to Rose Lalonde in her sleep when It thinks I cannot hear. It wants her to wake. It never stopped pining for the Heiress, I suppose.

 

**September, 2012**

   James has discovered we are watching. He has taken John and fled. They met the Striders in Texas and narrowly escaped my drones. I should have sent the newer models, but I was concerned they would be unreliable. They will not evade me again.

   The Lalondes are in Rainbow Falls, New York. I have sent the newer models. I do not care if they die. I have taken the world for myself in all but name, but these few oppose me. I am unaccustomed to such disrespect.

   The Source is uneasy and whispers to Itself. It never whispers. Who does It think will overhear? Is there another?

 

**September, 2012**

   John and Rose are mine.

   Cheren Queen contacted me from Prospit today. I still haven’t told her I’ve set her name in my contact list as “Sn8wman.” She hates that nickname. I hate her. She told me that they were brought to Prospit from the raid on Rainbow Falls. The others escaped. A few injuries. No casualties.

   I am eager to see them, but I must finish my inspection of the Helm. Ψ has been grounded for so long, I fear his atrophied mind will forget how to fly. But where would we go? My rule is still not solid here on Earth. I cannot leave. Not yet. Not when my wild little army is still so fretful and unstable. Soon.

 

**September, 2012**

   There is another.

   There is another Source.

   He is small and fast and wild. Where Gl’bgolyb is the immovable dark depths of the sea floor, this one is the ever-changing madness of the land. A land god and a sea god. How fitting. They called him Becquerel. He is _mine._

   The guardians returned for Rose and John. Let them go. They have left me with the greatest treasure. The more I study him the more his presence intoxicates me. He _hates_ me, he hates me so passionately I thrill with fear at the rage in his bristling fur. His eyes glow, _they glow,_ they glow like radioactive waste, like the green flash over the sea at sunset. He is a witch’s familiar. He is an island god. He is a Source all his own, emanating a psionic frequency a hundred times higher than Gl’bgolyb’s. It is weaker, to be sure, but it is mine.

   And what is more, it is enough to serve as an auxiliary engine.

   Becquerel proves it. There are wonders of this world I will never know – and there are other Sources. Perhaps there are only these two, here on this little blue planet. But think! Think what is out there in the sky. A beast that devours galaxies, something so unthinkably huge, the most powerful in the fabric of reality, pulsing and pounding with psionic power beyond my wildest dreams. Perhaps there are many. I will take them. I will put a muzzle on God and call him mine. I will pluck planets from their orbits like so much ripe fruit and they will be mine, and their gods will be mine. I will make a throne of the moon and I will watch the rise and fall of novae and nebulae. I will be there to watch the whole universe burn in the heat of the Ending and after it is done there will only be me. There will only be me.

_I am the Condescension._

_I am the Empress of all things._

_My demon in the sea with Its tentacles and fangs, and my angel at my side with his burning eyes that irradiate my soul. My beautiful gods on their beautiful leashes. There is nothing wild left in the universe – all is tame and quiescent under my hand. All that is left is to reach out and take it._

_Ψ is ready. He will carry me to my conquest. My faithful little Helmsman. My mortal machine amidst gods. He is mine, too._

_All are mine._

_All are mine._

_ALL ARE MINE._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's been six months._
> 
>  
> 
> (If you haven't finished DOWN yet, go do so before proceeding to this chapter.)

Your son died six months ago.

You have almost nothing of his – all of your household belongings are in a rubble-strewn ruin in Washington. You were left with nothing of him. Not even a grave. He _has_ one, of course. You just left it behind.

You still aren’t sure why you left, exactly – maybe it was Roxy’s naked pity, or Dirk’s quiet crushing guilt every time he looked at you like it was his fault, or the way you keep hearing Jake’s soft _That’s enough, Dirk_ on loop in your nightmares. Maybe it’s the raw pain you saw on Dave’s face; the same face you can remember streaked wet with tears in a crib some twelve years ago. The same face that reminds you how selfish your grief is. It’s not like you’re the only one who ever loved John.

So you left them. Your friends and their children and your dead child’s grave. Your mother, God rest her soul, left you her home when she died. You never moved in, afraid She would find you, but She isn’t a threat now. The house is in your old name, so for the first time in thirteen years you sign your name as James Crocker.

You pulled the dust covers off of the furniture and threw out whatever had been ruined by the passage of time, set her ashes above the small fireplace, and when you found the scattered photos of her holding her newborn grandson you thought you would break all over again.

But instead, you had just carefully put them back again and gone back to cleaning the empty house.

For a month or so you toyed with ideas. Some days you would wake up in your mother’s old bed and think maybe, just maybe, if you called Jake he would know what to say to make you want to keep living. But most days you wake up and wish you hadn’t. The house’s emptiness presses in on you like it wants to get a good look. Most days you feel like you’re drowning. Fitting.

Your ideas get darker.

They find you one at a time.

Karkat was the first. It was November, you think, when you came downstairs and found him doing your dishes like he’d been doing it his whole life. You hadn’t known quite what to say – before you could think of anything, he’d shoved the last mug into the drying rack, shut off the water, growled “You’re out of coffee,” and stalked out the front door. You didn’t lock it behind him.

You started shaving again that day.

The rest of them creep into your life like timid deer. Sollux appears days after Karkat, cross-legged on your dusty couch with a secondhand laptop, Karkat hanging over the back to point out flaws in his code. They don’t talk to you and you don’t talk to them. You go out and buy more coffee.

Nepeta takes a little longer to come inside, but you see her most nights at dusk in your backyard, chasing robins and squirrels in the December frost. Feferi comes with her, sometimes. The cold doesn’t seem to bother either of them.

Vriska arrives with clattering fanfare as she rummages carelessly through your kitchen like a horned one-eyed raccoon. She side-eyes you when you appear in the doorway, but when you make no effort to stop her, she turns away from you. It’s only a day later that you realize just what it means when a creature accustomed to being both prey and predator turns its back to you.

Equius shows up a few times; the first, you come downstairs and he’s prodding Sollux’s laptop while Sollux stands by looking exasperated. Karkat hangs limp over the couch in a way you’ve privately labeled “post-tantrum.” His hair is long enough that it obscures both his eyes and his horns. Next week, when Terezi shows up, crashing through your front door cane-first, she makes fun of him for it. For the first time since you caught him doing your dishes, Karkat addresses you directly.

“James,” he calls across the living room, and Sollux’s ever-present typing pauses. “Tell Terezi there is nothing wrong with my _fucking hair.”_

“It’s pretty long.” You can’t remember the last time you spoke out loud. “Let me know if you want me to cut it.”

If you had to pick a moment, you’d say that was the beginning of the end for you.

Two days before Christmas, Vriska pushes Tavros in your door ahead of her. They don’t leave.

One day before Christmas, Karkat wordlessly hands you a pair of scissors and flings himself into a kitchen table chair with all the resignation of a man at the gallows. You cut his hair and try not to think about your son. Instead you think about how Karkat is letting you stand behind him with something sharp, and about how Vriska doesn’t side-eye you anymore. You leave Karkat’s hair long around his horns to hide them, and when you’re done, he leaves without a word. Terezi takes his place and matter-of-factly tells you exactly how she wants hers cut, cane across her lap. You do your best to meet her specifications, and by the time you’re done, Tavros is peering shyly around the corner.

You end up cutting everyone’s hair except for Vriska’s – she looks at the scissors and says she’s _fine,_ thanks, and you don’t push her – and Feferi’s. Nepeta shakes her head like a dog after a bath and announces that she is delighted with the weight difference, and she hums happily as she pats Tavros’s daring mohawk. You put your scissors away.

On Christmas Day you come downstairs to find them asleep, some on the floor, one in a chair, three on the couch. All except for Kanaya, who pads quietly around the kitchen making coffee. She switches the machine on and watches as you preheat the oven and dig up enough ingredients to make cookies. You don’t have peppermint, but you’ll make do.

You make six batches, and the next day you go out and get a dozen blankets in every color.

Halfway through January, Gamzee Makara shows up in your living room. He doesn’t ask you to cut his hair and you don’t offer. When Karkat thinks you’re out of earshot, he asks Gamzee where he’s been. Gamzee says something that sounds like “The Orphaner” and Karkat doesn’t say anything else.

A week later you wake up in your mother’s bed to the smell of cookies and Kanaya sharply telling someone, “Don’t eat _all_ of them, leave a few for when he wakes up,” and something in your chest tightens painfully.

The cookies are passable, for a first attempt.

You stop closing your door at night.

The next week you get up the courage to go into the last room, the one you’ve been leaving off since you arrived, and you sit at your mother’s baby grand piano and carefully clean and tune it. John’s Nanna never hired anyone to maintain her piano, she would only ever do it herself, and though you’re rusty at it you make do. She’d roll in her grave if she knew you’d broken the tradition. Or her urn, you suppose.

You open the dust-caked blinds to let the sunlight in, and out in the backyard you can see Tavros and Nepeta clustered in a huddle in the snow, Tavros’s hands cupped around what’s probably a bird.

Vriska edges through the door, probably attracted by the noise, and she eyes you and the piano with her trademark predator-prey suspicion. You don’t acknowledge her – you never do – and she slowly inches forward until she’s peering over your shoulder to inspect the keys. “What’s it for?” she asks without preamble. You don’t answer. You wouldn’t know how to.

She watches as you work carefully through your scales, muscle memory shaking off the cobwebs with every note. Her one good eye tracks your hands like the predator she is – was – and her head bobs ever so slightly to the beat.

You don’t know where your mother kept her sheet music – maybe somewhere in here, you’ll look for it later – so you dredge up songs memorized in childhood, songs you’d drilled into John so many times you could play them in your sleep. Songs you taught him when he was still so small his pudgy fingers couldn’t span four keys.

The image is there in your head, of him covered in blood and not breathing in Dirk's arms, but it doesn't hurt any more than it always does.

Vriska watches all the while, but the second you stand up to close the lid she vanishes. The piano sounds better tuned, but you can tell it needs the strings replaced and a new sounding board.

Kanaya always manages to be in the kitchen whenever you are, and you find yourself beginning to ask her to fetch sugar from the cabinet or a spice from the rack. She starts to ask questions – first about basic things, like why you preheat the oven or what baking soda does; then about other things.

“Is this your home?”

“It was my mother’s. She left it to me when she died.”

“John’s… grandmother?” She says it hesitantly, like she’s not sure it’s the right word.

You nod.

“Do you mind much, having us here?”

“No,” you say, and it’s true.

Tavros starts bringing in small injured animals, and you can’t bring yourself to tell him to leave them out in the snow.

When you replace the piano strings, Vriska appears in the doorway again and watches. She doesn’t leave when you notice her.

Eridan and Feferi disappear for days at a time. You don’t ask where they go. That doesn’t mean you don’t worry.

Twice you’ve had to sit through the nights with Vriska when she curls up in the shower in the full throes of a panic attack. You think your presence helps. You know Sollux has them, too, but you never know until afterwards when you see Terezi following him like a quiet blind shadow.

Three times you’ve woken up to Karkat curled up asleep just outside your open door.

It’s March now.

The frost has mostly disappeared. Nepeta chases squirrels and sometimes loses. She’s not accustomed to losing – you can understand, given that she’s had an unnatural advantage her entire life. But when she loses her grip on the tree her prey scampered up and falls two feet onto the grass with a thump, sitting up to squint angrily at the branches and looking every bit the put-out child she is, you can’t help but laugh.

Karkat’s head snaps up at the sound and you realize you haven’t smiled for six months.

A tentative D scale drifts down the stairs, faltering but correct. C follows with more confidence. You let her play. If she needs your help, you know she’ll come ask you.

God only knows what your neighbors think; but as the kitchen timer rings and Kanaya puts her head around the doorway to tell you the cake is ready and what should she do now, and Sollux loudly points out a flaw in Karkat’s code, and Terezi whaps Equius with her cane and tells him to go console his cat, you begin to think that maybe you could start to call yourself a dad again someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: Dad Egbert plays Neko Atsume with feral gray children instead of cats
> 
> For that one anon who wanted to know if Dad would be okay post-ending.


End file.
